The Brutal Misadventures of a Couple of Gears
by LadyofResonance
Summary: Follow us in the tale of one unfortunate young woman as she's reluctantly dragged into Gearhood by her friend and into the crazy life of working for the world's most famous metal band, Dethklok.


Summary: Follow us in the tale of one unfortunate young woman as she's reluctantly dragged into Gearhood by her friend and into the crazy life of working for the world's most famous metal band, Dethklok.

Warning: AU, gore, language, adult scenes, violence, Nathan/OC shit (sorry Nathan/Abigail fans), Pickles/OC shit (sorry Pickles fans), and Skwisgaar/Toki slash, OC/OC femslash (past).

Disclaimer: Metalocalypse and its characters belong to Brendon Small and Tommy Blacha, I only own the couple of OCs.

* * *

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... You're fucking kidding me right?"

"Nope!"

"But it's suicidal and you know it."

"Yup!"

"...So you're willing to risk your life to be a roadie?"

"Yup!"

"Do you even care about what your family will think?"

"Not at all!"

"What about your friends?"

"You're my only friend."

"Exactly, so don't I have a say in this?"

"Hmmm... Nope!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, woman..."

It was like trying to talk to brick wall really, a very chipper and bright one, but a wall nonetheless. Clothes were flying through the air at alarming speeds, painting the painfully dull looking room of white walls and carpet with splashes of black and gray, the sounds of rummaging and drawers opening and closing a hurried yet constant rhythm. Back and forth from one end to another, the tall and lanky form of one Lizzie Smith paced, going through all her things in a game of 'naaah' and 'meeeh', which was as close to 'yes' and 'no' one could get with her. Aged 32, she cut a slim figure yet her long limbs made her a little awkward, her curves a little less than normal but she made up for it with a decent bosom size of C cups. Large, round eyes of liquid brown eyes peered out at the world with a sparkle of ever constant joy and mischief, set within a surprisingly elegant face of delicate features of a heart shaped face, high set cheek bones, a long, pert nose with a single nose piercing stud of silver in the left nostril, shapely rosy lips, average yet slightly naturally arched brows, and freckles sprinkled across the cheeks and the bridge of her nose. She didn't look like she got much sun though, her skin porcelain pale and yet marked with yet more freckles, her hair a frizzy mass of light brown loose curls piled onto her head and shoulders in waves, stopping just below her shoulder blades and parted along the middle.

The very air she exuded screamed of preppiness at its finest and yet her room was so darkly decorated with all manners of black, red, and gray, her knicknacks and patterns consisting of skulls, old fashion candle sticks, metal band posters, bats, and black cats. The brunette's wardrobe even matched, made up of nothing but black and gray versions of pretty much every kind of clothing from skirts to pants, t-shirts to sweaters, shoes, and so on. Lizzie was like a modern Frankenstein monster, stitched together from the parts of a goth, a prep, and a hyperactive child to create... whatever the hell they could call her. "Oh psh, you worry too much," said woman commented as she struggled to stuff a few choice articles of clothes into a poor gym bag that was already threatening to burst at the seams. "You know what I say, you only live once so why not have a blast along the way?" Obviously her companion did not share such sentiment if the derisive snort from the direction of the bed was anything to go by, which only earned an even brighter grin from the taller.

Terry Kieffer of age 25 was a sharp contrast to the lanky brunette, considerably shorter with a frame that was average and yet bordered on the edge of thick and even had some pudge to it, which unfortunately gave her curves some emphasis but her own breasts were thankfully a modest B cup. She was just as pale as the older, her features just as delicate with a gently rounded face, almond shaped eyes of stormy, almost gun metal gray that were seemingly constantly half lidded in a sleepy or bored kind of manner, high set cheek bones of which one had a beauty mark along the left, a long button nose, her lips thin but shapely and of a soft pink with silver hoop snake bite piercings, and her brows thick and surprisingly dark, nearly black. Her hair was a faux hawk of golden blond tight curls that could reach her chin in length and spilled out over the right side of her head, the sides of her head shaved short to near buzzcut lineness, just a little longer. Her choice of clothing was just as different, normally consisting of t-shirts with some nerdy images like Star Wars or Goonies, sweatshirts, jeans, and Converses of a rainbow variety.

She was more down to earth than her friend, quiet and almost withdrawn, a shadow compared to the sunshine that was Lizzie's cheer and boldness. Never could they be so different from each other and it was astonishing the two were friends at all but hey, opposites attract and all that jazz. There was one thing they both shared though with a passion, well, not quite Lizzie level of passion on Terry's part, but there definitely was some considerable love for metal music. However, it was because of this love, particularly for one band, that they were arguing, or rather the blond was arguing and the brunette was going on her merry way without so much as a waver in her step. "You're crazy, you know," the younger grumbled almost like a petulant child as she her gaze followed after that tall figure moving about, her normally neutral features marred by a frown born of anxious worry. "And you're paranoid," the elder retorted brightly as she finally managed to get everything she needed smooshed into one bag, to which it looked like a bloated and lumpy carcass of red plastic with its zipper about ready to pop off with enough force to launch it into orbit.

That frown deepened and then Lizzie immediately knew it was serious, dropping her bag next to the time beaten mattress on its last legs to plop down next to the other. "Hey, heeey, it'll be alright, I promise, you know I can take care of myself," she crooned softly, slipping her arms around those tense shoulders in a hug, pulling the smaller girl against herself. The blond merely gave a grunt in response, expression morphing into a scowl for a few seconds before finally falling to one of exhaustion and nervousness as her eyes took on a shine to them, a sign of tears threatening to be shed but she would never let them, not even in front of her best and oldest friend. Sniffing slightly then letting out a sigh, Terry turned her head and buried her face into the other's chest. "I just... don't want to lose you, ya know?" came the muffled reply, an arm finding its way around a slender waist in a returned hold, tightening to almost painful levels but it was tolerated without a single complaint. "Even if you don't get killed, like, instantly... I may never see you again..."

Lizzie's lips curled into a soft smile of fond exasperation, gently nuzzling her way into blond curls as she squeezed with all the comfort she could manage into such a simple gesture. "You know that's not true, you know I'll call you and I'll make sure that I get to visit you every chance I get," the brunette reassured for both the younger and herself cause she was pretty damned determine not to let them be pulled apart. But this was her dream and she wasn't about to give up the chance, though it would have been nice if her friend had decided to join her too.. "Becoming a Klokateer does not mean the world is going to end, it just means I won't be around to pester your ass as often," she commented with a crooked grin into the other's hair, earning another snort from Terry though this time it was in amusement, making that grin grow even wider. "Now c'mon, let me look at that gorgeous face."

Reluctantly, the blond raised her head with another sniff, blinking several times to clear her eyes but never once did those incriminating drops of salty water fall, no matter how crappy she felt. "Now, you listen you little shit, I'm not going to disappear forever and I'm not going to forget you, even if I wanted to," the brunette chastised lightly yet firmly, raising a hand to gently ruffle the other's faux hawk. "And I mean it too, so none of that depression shit, just live a little, live for me, alright?" The younger seemed to mull it over for a long moment before finally huffing out an overly dramatic sigh only to shove up against the other, whom gave a slight grunt of surprise as she was sent sprawling out on the bed with the blond atop her. "Fine... but you call me the first moment you can and give me all the details or so help me I will storm into Mordhaus somehow and kick your sorry ass, dead or alive," Terry commanded as she rolled slightly to instead cuddle up against her companion's side. "Yes dear," the taller drawled, earning an elbow to the side to which to she flinched in pain but ended up snickering regardless.

Into silence they fell, each to their own thoughts of the future to come, one full of hope and excitement and the other full of dread and melancholy. The blond didn't want her friend to go, it didn't matter if it would the coolest job in history, it was dangerous... From what she had heard, those who volunteered to work for Dethklok were actually pitted against each other, forced to fight to the death to show their willingness to work for the band and give up their lives for them. The blond knew the other was a pretty damn big fan, but to willingly give up your life just for a metal band? That was a pretty stupid idea in her opinion and she was very tempted to tie the brunette to the bed for the rest of their lives to keep her from going through with it... but it was Lizzie's choice to go and she couldn't live with herself if she was to deny the other that chance of awesomeness. Even if it meant she would lose a friend in the progress, regardless if it was by fatality or simply never seeing her again...

It was too late to try to persuade her anymore though, the older was pretty stubborn when she set her mind on something and all Terry could do was simply pray for the best and brace herself for the results. "G'night you old fart..." the blond mumbled, half asleep at this point as her thoughts became muddled, only colored by the lingering presence of her worry. "Goodnight you little shit," came the just as sleepy reply, followed by the click of a lamp string being pulled, sending the room into a pitch blackness that fit the decor all too well. And into the night the pair slept and though one rested without a peep, the other was constantly in rolling and shifting about with grunts of distress as images of the most twisted kind played throughout her subconscious long into the morning. By the time she woke up, the blond would forget it all but she would be haunted by a blinding sense of horror and anguish as her own scream would echo through her ears, crying out the name of one oblivious Lizzie...

May whatever deities above spare her such a terrifying sensation ever again come tomorrow...


End file.
